


Brother of Akielos, Brother of Vere

by phoenixflight



Series: Negotiations [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Choose Your Own Ending, Damen is a whore for blonds, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Sequel, Smut, fanworks of fanworks, pure indulgence, ymmv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:15:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/phoenixflight
Summary: It's a momentus event. Vere and Akielos are on the verge of signing a historic treaty and all Damen can think about is the two golden princes beside him.This is a direct sequel to niniblack'sA Luxury Few Can Afford. If you haven't read that, this won't make much sense - what are you waiting for?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Luxury Few Can Afford](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305457) by [niniblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack). 



> I loved the ambiguity of niniblack's fic, and I couldn't decide on my favorite ending. So I wrote both. This is a chose your own adventure story with two alternate endings. 
> 
> If you got here from niniblack's fic then you already know the level of thematic incest this involves. Chapter one contains no explicit content of any kind, and only ambiguous references to incest. The second half of the fic contains two options, A and B. Option A contains NO actual incest. Option B is just filthy indulgent porn feat... yup, incest. 
> 
> Detailed content tags for each will be in the chapter notes - READ RESPONSIBLY for goodness sake. As we used to say on Ye Olde Lyfejournale - haters to the left.

Damen had been jittery ever since their party left Ios. Ever since they got the invitation, in all honesty. Tomorrow, Vere and Akielos would be meeting formally for the first time in years to finalize and ratify the new treaty.

From the ramparts of Marlas, he could see the blue and gold flags flying above the Veretian camp in the evening light, just on the other side of the border. It was not quite a military camp, although no doubt the men were armed just as his were, camped below the walls of Marlas.

The treaty Nikandros and Auguste had begun negotiating at their clandestine meeting a year ago had thus far been a great success. Trade through Delpha was more open and prosperous than ever in living memory and the citizens of the region, while still outspoken in their distrust for slippery Veretians or uncouth Akielons, were more than happy to profit off the changing times. Kings Aleron and Theomedes had both been reluctant to see the treaty formalized, but Theomedes had relented at the urging of his heir, and apparently Aleron had done the same.

A year of work had culminated in this week long summit, part festival, part tournament, part political conference. The stakes were high, but that was not what made Damen unable to sit still all through dinner.

Tomorrow he would be attending the opening ceremonies along side the two Veretian princes. He would be expected to greet them both in his capacity as Crown Prince of Akielos.

It would be the first time he had laid eyes on either of them since the night in the tavern when he had paid Prince Laurent of Vere a small ransom in gold for a twenty minute tumble.

In his defense, he hadn’t known it was the Prince of Vere, and it had been worth every penny.

At the scuff of footsteps on the stones behind him, Damen turned to see Nikandros approaching, carrying two cups of wine.

Gratefully, Damen took the offered cup. Nikandros leaned in silence against the parapet beside him, looking out at the watch fires being lit in the Veretian camp. “You’ve been out of sorts.”

“I want this week to go well. It could be the start of a new era for Akielos.”

Nikandros hummed. “And it has nothing to do with a certain blond prince?”

Damen swallowed slightly too much wine and coughed. “That would be foolish.”

“I agree. Of course, I’ve _never_ known you to be foolish about a pretty face.”

“You shouldn’t talk to your future king like that,” Damen said mildly, leaning his elbows on the stones.

“Oh, I apologize. You would never be foolish about a pretty face, _Exalted_.”

Damen laughed. “That’s better.” There was a silence. Down in the courtyard they heard the guard changing, men’s voices and the clank of weapons. Somewhere out in the darkness a night hawk cried. “I’m proud of you. For the work you’ve done on this treaty. When I am king, I will be lucky to have you beside me.”

Nikandros ducked his head, and then said in a somewhat muffled voice, “Only because no one else could possibly tolerate you.”

Damen grinned.

 

The next day dawned bright and cool, perfect weather for the opening games of the tourney. Damen let his slaves dress him in a fine chiton and resisted the urge to fuss over his own appearance. He forced himself to eat breakfast – one could not compete in sports on an empty stomach, and there was no reason for his jittery, adolescent nerves. He was twenty-three. It was frankly embarrassing.

At mid-morning, he rode at the head of a small procession to the elaborate tent where the royals and their companions would watch the games. An arena had been leveled in the neutral territory on the border and filled with imported sand. Nikandros had spared no expense.

Damen’s heart pounded as he dismounted, handing his reins to Pallas, and walked forward into the cool, gauzy shade of the tent.

The Veretian princes were already there with their retinue. Two blond heads turned toward him. Standing side by side like this, now that he knew who they were, their family resemblance was unmistakable. If anything, it had grown in the past year – Laurent’s face was sharper, more angular, more similar to his brother’s masculine beauty. Auguste’s hair was honey instead of butter, but they had the same blue eyes, the same delicate mouth. Damen felt a thrum of guilty desire low in his stomach.

“Our brother of Akielos,” Auguste said, inclining his head gracefully.

“Our brothers of Vere.” Damen returned the nod, an appropriate gesture of respect between royals of equal rank.

“Allow me to introduce my younger brother, Laurent.” Holding out a hand, Auguste gestured to Laurent. Laurent’s pale, slender fingers folded into his brother’s grasp as he stepped forward.

And that was the other reason Damen had been unsettled and on edge ever since the invitation arrived.

Last time he had met these two they had been posing as lovers – the younger prince wearing the sapphire jewels of a pet, practically climbing in his master’s lap. Just a disguise, Nikandros had said, but Damen wasn’t sure. With Prince Laurent on his lap, one of Damen’s fingers sunk to the third knuckle inside him alongside Damen’s cock, Damen had whispered some meaningless fantasy about fucking him together with his master – Prince Auguste. And Laurent had come spectacularly at the thought.

Damen had spent the past year wondering about the that moment, and a number of guilty nights fantasizing about all it might imply. Now he had to spend a week with these two together while resolving the last details of a delicate treaty. Without letting his inappropriate musings cause an international incident. Damen swallowed and looked away from their clasped hands.

“Prince Laurent,” he said. “It is an honor.”

Laurent was composed, the same haughtiness he had displayed as a pet sitting with greater weight and dignity on a prince’s face. His gaze was cool as he met Damen’s eyes, bordering on hostile. He tipped his head in a barely perceptible nod. “Prince Damianos.”

Auguste clapped his hands. “Well. Let us begin.”

 

The three princes sat side by side in the shade of the tent at one end of the arena, watching the extravagant displays. Games were sacred in Akielos, and tourneys honored in Vere, and both sides had invested great efforts in outdoing one another with displays of music and athleticism for the opening ceremony.

Damen, who loved sports, found himself more distracted than he had been in years. The three of them were seated with Auguste in the middle, Laurent on his left. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen could see both brothers, and couldn’t stop watching the play of light in their hair, their pale, matching faces. He wondered how he could ever have mistaken them for master and pet – now he could see nothing but their resemblance.

Auguste showed his thoughts openly on his face as he applauded performers and cheered for the competitors. Laurent’s face was harder to read, only minute changes betraying any emotion as he watched the games. His neutral expression appeared bored, but his eyes followed the action in the arena carefully.

Between games when slaves came with refreshments and Auguste and Damen chatted about the competitions, Laurent said nothing, barely looking at the two of them. It was hard to believe that this composed, stand-offish young man was the same wanton, demanding person who had come undone on Damen’s cock. Damen would have wondered if he’d imagined the whole night except for the exasperated looks Nikandros kept throwing him from the other side of the tent.

For the horse-racing event, Auguste rose from his seat, gesturing to a servant to bring his mount. Wishing him luck, Damen clasped his shoulder, feeling the swordsman’s muscle there, and had two fantasies in quick succession; one was of crossing swords in the practice ring, the elation of sparring with a truly talented opponent. The other involved a breathless elation of a different kind.

To distract himself, he glanced at Laurent. “You won’t be competing?”

Laurent sniffed. “I have no interest in riding around in the heat getting dusty and showing off like some kind of trained animal.”

Damen almost spluttered at the unflattering implication about his brother by comparison, but Auguste just laughed. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s a better horseman than I, but he’s too smart to out-ride me in public and too proud to lose willingly.”

Laurent sat back, looking vaguely affronted at the compliment. “Well. Someone has to defend your princely image.”

Auguste sat a horse like he was part of the animal, and Damen leaned forward in his seat as the riders burst from the starting line. Sunlight caught in the Prince’s dark gold hair and his thighs flexed against the sides of his mount.

Beside Damen, Laurent snorted softly, and Damen looked over to find the prince glaring at him. “Enjoying the view?” Laurent said acidly.

Damen’s cheeks felt warm. “He’s a skilled rider.”

Laurent hummed. “I’m better.”

Auguste won easily a full horse length ahead of his competition, and came panting up to the tent to be crowned as victor. His face was flushed, eyes bright, the curls on his forehead damp with sweat. He beamed as Damen set the crown of laurels on his head and Damen felt a slow lurch of desire in his gut.

When he turned to his brother, Auguste ducked so that Laurent could place a medal around his neck. Damen didn’t mean to stare, but their two bright heads tilted together were magnetic. Laurent’s mouth was curled up in a smile that Damen had never seen before, soft and proud, and Auguste was grinning back.

Forcing himself to look away, Damen thought about horse dung until his heart rate returned to normal.

Later in the morning, Damen himself competed in the wrestling match. He and Nikandros stripped naked and oiled themselves before taking their starting positions on the sand. Midday sun beat down on them as they grappled. It was easy, requiring almost no thought; the thrust and twist of Nikanrdos’ body against his was as familiar to him as the routines he practiced alone.

They were well-matched but Damen eventually pinned Nikandros under him, panting, and looked up toward the royal tent. Auguste was applauding with the rest of the crowd. Laurent sat still as stone beside him, but his eyes were fixed on Damen.

After a slave scraped most of the oil and sand from his body, Damen approached the dais himself for his laurels. Auguste grinned and congratulated him as he set the wreath on his head. Laurent hung back, looking distinctly flushed.

“Did you enjoy the match?” Damen asked, looking at him pointedly.

Laurent sniffed. “It’s amazing that you Akielons ever achieved anything as a society if you haven’t progressed past wrestling in the nude like animals.”

“Laurent!” Auguste exclaimed.

Damen bit down on a smile and shook his head. “Perhaps the warm climate has allowed us to stop wasting time on elaborate clothing and concentrate on more sophisticated pastimes than fashion.” He glanced deliberately up and down Laurent’s body, his tightly laced jacket and dark trousers. “You have to admit you’d be more comfortable if you took some clothes off yourself.”

Laurent scowled fiercely at him and then turned on his heel and stalked away to the other side of the tent. Auguste shook his head. “I appolgize for my brother. I’m afraid I indulge his willfulness more than I possibly should.”

Damen looked at Laurent, and remembered him kneeling over Damen’s lap, sinking down on his cock. “He is easy to indulge.”

Auguste followed his gaze, smiling at his brother’s profile with obvious affection. “Yes.”

“So there is no apology necessary,” Damen said, and took his seat beside Auguste to watch the javelin throwing.

During the next match, Laurent returned to his seat beside his brother, opposite Damen, and Auguste leaned over to speak with him. Under the cheering of the crowd he heard August say, “We’re here for diplomacy. Make a little effort.”

Laurent’s response was even softer, almost lost in the rest of the noise. “...succeed regardless. My attitude is hardly going to change that.” Auguste put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and Laurent leaned into him a little. Damen looked away. It was going to be a very long day.

 

Thankfully, the two courts returned to their respective camps in the evening and dinner was a quiet affair. Damen retired early, bidding Nikdandros goodnight and strolling toward his rooms, his guard a few paces behind him. Outside his chambers he nodded to Pallas, who took up his station in the hall, and stepped inside yawning.

Since it was a warm night there was no fire in the grate, and only two lamps had been lit. So it wasn’t until the door was already closed behind him that Damen noticed the slim figure standing beside the bed.

He stumbled to a halt, the instant flare of alarm replaced with something warmer and heavier as he recognized the man.

Prince Laurent inclined his head formally. “Good evening, our brother of Akielos.”

 


	2. Option A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains discussion of sexual fantasies including incest, flogging, and humiliation. Laurent and Auguste are not sexually involved. Overall this chapter is rated M for mature themes but there is no actual sex. It's actually p wholesome.

Damen sputtered. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I’ve come to warn you.” Laurent’s voice was cool as ever, but his shoulders were tense beneath his dark jacket.

“Warn me?” Damen’s pulse picked up and he flicked his eyes around the room, marking the exits, shadows, searching for a threat. “About what?”

Laurent took a step forward and Damen’s gaze snapped back to him. “About me. If you spread lies about my brother, I will ruin you.”

“Spread lies...” Damen swallowed. “You mean. About you and...?”

Color rose in Laurent’s cheeks but his voice was icy, furiously controlled. “You may think you know something about me. About Auguste. But you don’t. You know _nothing_. And if you so much as _think_ of using it against us, of spreading rumors or slandering my brother to weaken his reign, I will destroy this trade deal, discredit you with your father, and see to it that Vere and Akielos spend the next ten generations at war.” He stopped, breathing hard.

Damen held up his hands, feeling a little breathless himself, like being bowled over by a wave from behind while splashing the surf. “Of course not. I wouldn’t... even if Auguste were my enemy, I would never use such... personal tactics.” Laurent snorted. “We are allies, now. You have my word of honor.”

“The honor of a barbarian.” Laurent’s arms were crossed, but Damen could still see the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath his tightly laced jacket. “Well, my honorable brute, you should know that whatever you thought about the two of us... whatever you thought might be true... it’s not.” He lifted his chin, face pink and defiant. “Auguste is a good man. He’ll be a great king.”

“I believe that,” Damen said seriously.

“He would never... think of such a thing.”

Damen regarded Laurent carefully. His heart was pounding, and he wondered if he was about to make a huge mistake. “But... you think of it?”

The Prince stepped forward, face red, fists balled at his sides. “I _said_ ,” he hissed, “that if you ever spoke of it...”

“I know!” Damen interrupted, lifting his hands. “I didn’t mean to... accuse you. I’m not saying anything’s wrong.”

Laurent choked on what might have been a laugh. “Of course it’s wrong. He is my brother, and someday he will be my king.”

Damen felt like he was navigating a labyrinth – around any corner could be a beast. Carefully, he said, “When I was younger, there were a handful of us children at Ios who all shared a tutor. And when a student misbehaved, he would make them stand in front of the others and bend over while he lashed them with a willow switch.” Laurent blinked, distracted from his fury. He cocked his head, clearly curious despite himself. “All of the students except me, that is,” Damen continued. “He couldn’t lay hands on the Crown Prince. When I misbehaved he set other punishments for me. Lines and so on. It doesn’t matter. Anyway,” Nerves were distracting him. “I was never switched, and I was glad for it – it was humiliating and painful. The other boys would cry. But sometimes when I... pleasured myself, I would think of it, imagine it. Being stripped naked, bent over in front of my friends, in front of anyone, strangers, the whole court.” His face was burning. He’d never admitted this to anyone. It was inappropriate for a prince to have such thoughts. Laurent was watching him intently, eyes bright, lower lip caught between his teeth. “It made me wild to imagine being punished like that for everyone to see. I never actually wanted it to happen, but I wanted... to think about it. Do you see?”

Laurent regarded him for a long moment, and then said, “They expect you to run a kingdom some day?”

“Sorry?” A thread of worry and shame clenched in Damen’s gut.

“You came into possession of a powerful piece of blackmail against the prince of a potentially hostile nation, and instead of trying to use it against me, you have done your utmost to explain it away and reassure me. And you are to be the next king of Akielos.” Laurent crossed his arms. His words were clipped, but there was an undercurrent to his tone which suggested he was not as calm as he appeared.

Damen let out a breath, anxiety draining away, and smiled despite himself. “I suppose it is our barbarian honor.”

Laurent smiled wryly back. “You are saying that my unnatural thoughts for my brother are harmless fantasies.”

“It’s clear that you love him and he you. Anyone looking at you both could see that. The rest is...” Damen shrugged. “No one’s business but yours.”

“And yours, it seems,” Laurent sighed. “I should have stopped you that night as soon as you started to talk about him. That disguise was a bad idea from the start.”

“Your idea, I presume?”

“Of course. Auguste has no instinct for deception.” He said it fondly. “No instinct for darkness of any kind. He would never guess how I felt for him. I could crawl naked into his bed and he would ask if I had had a nightmare. It would not even cross his mind.” His mouth twisted. “I’m good at dark things so he doesn’t have to be.”

“He is lucky to have you,” Damen said, seriously. People said that to him of Nikandros; _you’re so lucky to have him_. And it was true, Damen knew he would be in trouble without his closest friend and advisor.

He thought of a young prince, the second son, growing up knowing his place was in the shadows behind the throne; loved and doted on by his golden brother; learning that his place only, always, was at that brother’s side, an advisor, a confidant, a defender against the dark. His whole purpose in life was to love his brother and his brother’s crown. And Auguste was the kind of man whose attention was like sunlight, intoxicating and euphoric; the love he held for Laurent must have been infinitely more so. It was no wonder that the young, impressionable prince had become so tangled up in his brother’s light. How could he not?

Laurent was looking at him with an intense and inscrutable expression. Damen shifted a little. “What?”

“You truly have no intention of using this against me.” It wasn’t a question. Laurent said it in the way he might say, _can you believe this horse has lost a shoe again._

“I would never betray the confidences of a lover.”

Something shifted, so subtly he couldn’t identify what exactly it was. Nothing about Laurent’s posture, or his flushed, impassive face. But there was a current of something new running through the room. “Lovers?” Laurent said, dangerously soft. “Is that what we are?”

Damen felt his heart beat faster at the tone. He swallowed. “If you wanted to be.”

The moment drew out between them, so still that Damen could hear the sounds of the castle keep drifting in through the open window. Laughter, voices, a dog barking. Somewhere out in the darkness a nighthawk cried. Laurent was frowning very slightly. Then in a smooth movement, the prince sat down on the bed and began pulling at the laces of his jacket. “Well?” he said, flicking an imperious glance at Damen. “What are you waiting for?”

Damen grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me why I think Damen would have a secret kink for flogging and public humiliation - before the actual trauma of Laurent flogging him, ofc. I just do. The theme of this chapter is "fantasies are healthy and ok, and they don't mean you want things in real life necessarily."   
> The more I think about it, the more my headcanon for Laurent in canon-verse is that he was incredibly mixed up about Auguste. He hero-worshiped him and adored him as a kid and thirteen is a confusing and horny age. He never had a chance to grow out of his confused devotion to the only person he trusted and loved. When he says in PG "Whatever taint is in my family, Auguste was free of it," the poor boy is blaming himself for desiring his brother in some way, when it was all tangled up with his love and grief and his uncle's abuse. Anyway, I have a lot of hurty feelings about one-sided, childhood Laurent brother-crush. He needs a hug and someone to tell him that its ok and feelings are complicated, especially about sex.


	3. Option B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated E for explicit sex, and it contains incest-related kink, come play, some dirty talk, general filthiness. Auguste is not actually in the room, but he is definitely a Presence. He and Laurent are actually having sex off screen.  
> If this isn't your cup of tea, that's easy - don't read it! If it is, enjoy!

Damen sputtered. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Laurent raised his eyebrows. “What do people who come to your chambers at night normally want?”

The Prince was dressed in a dark jacket, laced up to his neck, nothing like the disguise he’d worn as a pet. But his voice was the same, low and intent. Damen swallowed. “I would not dare presume what the Prince of Vere wants from sneaking into my rooms at night.”

“Even though I have already showed you once?” Laurent said lazily, leaning back a little against the footboard of the bed so his long legs and slender torso were on display. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

Nothing about Prince Laurent was obvious. But if he was offering... “Are you going to demand payment again?”

“Why, are you afraid you can’t afford my rates?” Laurent raised a perfect eyebrow.

If he had been a slave, Damen would have paid anything to own him. But he had the feeling the Prince of Vere valued himself higher than money. “That depends on what they are.”

A smile curved the corner of Laurent’s mouth. “The seven percent tariff on wheat is too high.”

Damen blinked. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “You want to barter with statecraft in bed?”

“Problem?”

“Nikandros would kill me. My father would kill me.”

“You’ve never defied your father and ignored your friend in pursuit of a lover?” The lamplight shone in Laurent's gold hair.

Damen set his jaw. “I know what my reputation says, but I won’t actually act against Akielos’ best interests just because of a pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?” Laurent batted his lashes falsely, and then turned serious in a flash. “Think harder on the tariffs. Nikandros negotiated that rate because Delfeur is a grain-growing region. But the rest of Akielos does not grow wheat, and will pay a higher price for bread because of the tariff. That was not the Kyros’ intention but it is the result.”

Damen frowned, caught off guard. His cock was half hard, and his mind miles away from real statecraft. But a thought niggled at the back of his head. He, too, had been startled by the tariff. “Name your rate.”

“Three percent.”

“Five.”

“Four and half.”

“Done,” Damen said, crossing his arms. “I will bring it up in council tomorrow.”

“Well. In that case, with business done, it seems we have the rest of the evening free.” Laurent lowered his voice, and cast a deliberate look up and down Damen’s body. “Whatever shall we do?”

“I can think of a few things,” Damen said, hearing his own voice drop. A warm thrum of heat began to settle in his stomach. He reached out and drew Laurent into his arms. Running his hands down Laurent’s back, he felt the shape of his ribcage and his narrow hips, under the heavy brocade of his jacket.

The Prince of Vere arched under his touch, tipping his head back with a sigh that made Damen growl in response as he bent to kiss him. Laurent’s lips parted under his and he tasted familiar.

Pulling their hips together, he felt Laurent’s erection press against his thigh. Fumbling a hand between them, Damen yanked at the laces of Laurent’s trousers. The press of his cock had stretched the ribbons tight and made the knots difficult. Damen alternated between biting at Laurent’s neck and swearing softly as Laurent laughed at him.

Finally he got the laces loose and slipped a hand inside with a triumphant noise, fingers brushing against the hot, velvety head of Laurent’s cock. Then he felt Laurent’s hands on his chest pushing him away.

Confused, he rocked back, blinking. Laurent was flushed, mouth wet and hair disheveled. Damen could barely think beyond how much be wanted to touch every inch of him. “What’s wrong?” he managed.

“I have a gift for you from my brother,” Laurent whispered, and Damen felt his whole body thrum, hot and unexpected. Did he-? Did the two of them really-? “To celebrate finishing the treaty.”

Laurent turned around so his back was to Damen’s chest, and pushed his loose trousers down around his knees. Damen was so distracted by running both hands down his smooth thighs and gripping the shallow angles of his hips that it took him several long moments to notice the glass ornament nestled between the curves of his ass.

It was a blue glass toy, with a guilded starburst stamped on the flared end; Prince Auguste’s emblem. Damen’s breath caught. All the blood in his body felt like it was pulsing in his cock.

Laurent bent forward, holding the edge of the bed for support, blond hair falling over his face. “Take it out.”

Gripping the toy by the base, Damen tugged gently, feeling the gripping resistance. He groaned softly as Laurent’s hole opened up around the wider end of the toy, but the sound was lost under Laurent’s moan.

The toy slid out with a pop, and his empty hole flexed, closing slightly. Thick white liquid oozed out, dripping down Laurent’s ass toward his balls. Damen swore. “Is that...?”

“From Prince Auguste,” Laurent said, voice low and rough.

Damen’s cock throbbed and he clutched the base of it to regain control. He thought of Laurent sneaking into the fort with his brother’s come plugged up inside him, standing in front of Damen coolly negotiating trade deals, when earlier in the evening, Auguste had put his cock inside him and filled him up. “Fuck.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

There was oil beside the bed. Damen fumbled for the bottle, pouring it over his cock and his hand, getting on the sheets and the flagstone floor. He dragged his fingers around Laurent’s hole, which twitched and leaked. More of his brother’s come, Damen thought hazily.

“Come on. You don’t need to stretch me. Just do it.” Laurent’s bossy tone was undercut with urgency.

Normally, Damen took delight in teasing partners who begged for it, making them wait while he eased them open with his hands and mouth. But there was something irresistible about the thought of sliding in with no preparation. He pressed his cock against the pink, swollen furl of Laurent’s hole and pressed inside. It was wet and easy, and Damen slid in until his hips were pressed flush against Laurent’s ass. He felt liquid sliding down his balls and swore.

The force of his first thrust rocked Laurent forward into the bed sheets with a choked sound. Damen pushed Laurent further onto the bed until he could kneel behind him, bending over Laurent’s back until he found an angle that made Laurent gasp into the sheets on every thrust. Bracing himself with one hand, he reached under Laurent and found his cock, hard and hot, leaking at the tip. Damen curled his fingers around it and Laurent jolted, clenching around him.

Pressing his forehead against Laurent’s shoulder, Damen bit down on the fabric of his jacket, wishing he could sink his teeth into Laurent’s pale skin, mark him under his clothes where no one would see. No one except Auguste. Damen swore at the thought and Laurent bucked back against him.

His jacket was still on, pushed up around his chest. Damen slid his hand up under it, remembering his pink, sensitive nipples. Laurent whimpered as his fingers, still slick from Laurent’s cock, found one of them.

The sound, the picture Laurent made, pale ass spread for him, opening around his cock, gleaming wet all down his thighs with his brother’s come, made Damen feel like there was fire under his skin, expanding. Sweat dripped down his back. The sheets beneath his knees were damp and so were the gold curls at Laurent’s neck. He could feel his balls drawing tight. “I’m... I’m.”

Laurent pushed himself up on his elbows. “Are you going to come?” He had one hand between his legs, stroking himself rapidly.

“Yes,” Damen gasped. “Do you want... inside you? Fill you up again? Fuck.” His orgasm was building in his balls. “Put the toy in you, send you back to your brother like that?”

Laurent pitched forward into the sheets, muffling a wail, and clenched down on Damen’s cock as he came all over the bed.

Damen swore and sank his teeth into Laurent’s jacket again as he followed, pressing deep inside Laurent as his cock pulsed.

After a long moment, Damen pulled back and saw Laurent’s swollen hole, glistening wet and leaking come. Damen’s and Auguste’s. Another shudder ran through him. Staring helplessly, not entirely in control of his own mouth, Damen said, “Next time I want to lick that out of you.”

Laurent’s whole body spasmed, and his hole twitched, drooling more pearly liquid down his balls. Damen groaned, feeling his own cock throb in a valiant attempt to get hard again. “Next time?” Laurent muttered into the pillows.

Damen grinned.

Wincing, Laurent rolled over and sat up. The glass toy had rolled away into the folds of the bed, and Damen watched in exhausted and aroused fascination as Laurent found it, reached behind himself and neatly slid the toy inside with barely any change in expression.

Then Laurent rose from the bed, and Damen saw with deep satisfaction that despite his unruffled expression the Prince was walking gingerly as he went to the washbasin and wiped himself clean. He straightened his jacket, which must have been sweaty and uncomfortable inside, and pulled up his trousers, lacing them carefully.

Fully dressed, he looked immaculate, untouched and untouchable. His gaze was cool as he looked down at Damen, although his cheeks were still flushed. “I will tell my brother that the Crown Prince of Akeilos and the Crown Prince of Vere have exchanged gifts as befits the signing of a treaty. We are allies now.” His voice was placid, as if announcing the gift of a new horse or an invitation to dinner, not some debauched exchange of bedplay between three princes. Then, in the same mild tone he continued, “And if you so much as _think_ of using what has transpired here against us - of spreading rumors or slandering my brother to weaken his reign - I will destroy this trade deal, discredit you with your father, and see to it that Vere and Akeilos spend the next ten generations at war.”

Damen swallowed, suddenly much more fully awake. “I would never betray the confidence of a lover. Lovers. You have my word.”

A very small smile crossed Laurent’s face, and he bent down, pressing a soft kiss against Damen’s cheek. “Then goodnight, brother of Akielos. I will see you again soon.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!  
> If you like what you see, follow me on tumblr [here](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/). I post most of my fic on tumblr, but I'm not posting this one there bc people IRL follow me and nobody in brickspace needs to know how depraved I really am.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Negotiations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664902) by [Josselin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin)




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